You Idiot, I Love You
by orangepenguin
Summary: I think, as I sit here, listening to the mindless prattle of the people around me, that I would give up my magic, all my gifts, because they weren’t powerful enough for him to let me stay. Short HG one shot. Ginny POV.


**You Idiot, I Love You**

**Summary:** **I think, as I sit here, listening to the mindless prattle of the people around me, that I would give up my magic, all my gifts, because they weren't powerful enough for him to let me stay. Short HG one shot. Ginny POV.**

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own anything related to the Harry Potter Franchise, or Casablanca.**

The year that I was ten, when all my brothers were off at Hogwarts, or Romania, or Egypt, the Burrow was emptier than it ever had been, and I was absolutely disconsolate. I felt left out of everything, and the few letters than arrived, more often Fred and George's detention notices than anything else, were nothing but reminders of all I was missing out on by being stuck at home.

I would just lay around the house, sometimes reading, sometimes trying to play Quidditch…hard to do by oneself. If I ever complained to Mum, she would tell me to make myself useful and de-gnome the garden, or wash dishes. She even tried to teach me to knit. I would get angry, because she could do all those things by magic, if she wanted to, she just wouldn't.

Then Mum would yell, and when Dad came home from work, he would be disappointed, which was even worse. "Ginny, there are people, billions of people, who don't have magic to do these things. People who have had to use their own brains and ingenuity to come up with solutions for everything they need." I would just shrug, because sure it was sad for all the Muggles, but I wasn't one of them. Next year, I would be going to Hogwarts, and I knew that I would be powerful, and would _never _wash dishes by hand.

But I wasn't a spoiled little brat, you have to understand, I was just sad…lethargic. But then one day, Dad brought home the thing from work which completely changed my view of Muggles, and probably of the world. It was an ancient television and VCR that he appropriated from the confiscated objects box. He stripped off the charms surrounding it, and presented it to me as my birthday gift. It was the best thing I've ever gotten.

Of course all it could do was play those ancient movies that I went and got from the village library, a long, wet, two mile hike through a bog and fields. But it was worth it. I was completely absorbed in the stories, the way I had never been by books, regardless of moving pictures.

My favorite, the one I look back on most bitterly now, was _Casablanca. _I used to think it was the perfect love story. Ilsa was not perfect, but he loved her anyway, and sacrificed himself, stayed in a war torn country and gave her his ticket to safety. Rick's expression, when Ilsa flew away on the plane, made me ache, but in a good way. It seemed that he _should_ have let her go. It was testament to his love that he would rather them be safe apart, than together but in danger.

I never once thought what must have run through Ilsa's head on that plane, going away to safety, never to see her love again. She must have thought, over and over, "You idiot, I love you. You idiot, I love you."

I love him, and want him, and need him, and he put me on that plane.

Harry, with his dark path ahead, and the weight of so many expectations on his back…and I could help, could bear some of it…I would not mind death, I don't think, if I died to make sure he finished his task. But I guess…I guess I don't get that choice. I'm already on the plane. Well, the train rather, back to Hogwarts, and he is battling an evil like the Nazis must have seemed in the 1940s, all encompassing.

Just like Ilsa, I look around at the people who are with me, and their faces blur together until all I see are the missing spaces, the places where he should be. It isn't romantic, when it's real. It isn't worth it. Not to the one on the plane.

I think, as I sit here, listening to the mindless prattle of the people around me, that I would give up my magic, all my gifts, because they weren't powerful enough for him to let me stay. But here I am, in relative safety, and there he is, in the gravest danger of all. "You idiot, I love you. You idiot, I love you."

**A/N: A little angst won't kill anyone, right? This is something new for me, so let me know what you think!**


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